A Challenge
by Iris A. Draven
Summary: One of my friends told me to write a story containing: 1 a Birdbath 2 a Magic 8 Ball and 3 A keychain. This is what I came up with. And, as usual, it contains Wincest. You know you love it.


A Keychain, a Magic 8-Ball, and Birdbaths

"So, what exactly is this place?'" Dean asked looking around.

"It's called an aviary," Sam answered. "Keeps birds from flying too far off. Keeps them happy so they sing."

"Oh. So it's one of those New-Age 'fell the tranquility' sort of things," Dean answers, looking at the gentle waterfall, the feeders, and the birdbaths scattered about. "Fun. Why're we here?"

Sam sighs and rolls his eyes. "I want to feel the tranquility." He sits on a near-by bench. "And spend some time with you that doesn't involve running for our lives."

Dean looks down. "Sorry. But you know this isn't really my sort of thing."

Sam smiles and tosses puppy-dog eyes at Dean. "Just try to enjoy it. Besides, I bought you this to help pass the time." Sam pulls an 8-Ball keychain out of his pocket and hands it to Dean. "It's magic. Tells you the future."

Dean holds up the 8-Ball. "It's pink, Sam."

Sam nods absently. "Out of black. Says the same things."

"But it's pink."

"Just ask it a question! You're supposed to be enjoying the peace and quiet, Dan."

Dean makes an unsatisfied noise, looks sideways at Sam, then shakes the 8-Ball and flips it over for the answer. Dean giggles when it reads 'yes.' Sam narrows his eyes and asks, "What'd you ask it?"

"If you were my bitch." He giggle again. "It said 'yes.'"

"Aha. See, it really does work."

Dean grins. "Ask a question Sammy. It's fun."

Sam, happy to see Dean enjoying himself, says, "Is Dean humming Dylan in the back of his mind?" The 8-Ball says 'It is decidedly so.'

"My turn... Is Sam wearing underwear? 8-Ball says... 'Don't count on it.' Hmm? Do you want to tell me something?," Dean raises an eyebrow as he looks at Sam.

"No. Is Dean?"

"I don't need an 8-Ball to answer that Sam."

Sammy grins. "I do. Ask."

"Ok." Dean pretends to concentrate and flips the 8-Ball over. 'Very doubtful.' "Told you I didn't need the 8-Ball for that one."

Sam quirks up one side of his mouth, watching an oriole fly over their heads. "So ask it something you don't know."

Dean looks down at the little keychain. "I don't really have any deep, pressing questions that can be answered with just a simple yes-or-no answer."

Sam questions, "Should I have gotten you a tarot deck?"

Dean grins. "Naw. I appreciate the gesture. It's kind of fun."

Sam leans back on the bench and rests his head on Dean's lap. "Glad you like it."

Dean, noticing the birds overhead asks, "Is a bird gonna take a crap on me?" Sam shrugs, "It's a possibility."

"Uh, I was asking the 8-Ball."

"Oh. What's it say?"

"'Better not tell you now.' What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe."

Dean places the 8-Ball in his pocket, with some difficulty, shifting Sam. Sam begins to sit up, but Dean pulls him back down and begins running his fingers through Sam's shaggy do. Sam begins pointing in different directions. "Robin. Common crow. Chickadee. Wood duck. Oh, there's one you can name," Sam says, pointing towards the water.

"You mean the flamingo?," Dean asks.

"Yup. Very good, Dean."

Dean rewards Sam with a slight glare and remarks, "I pick the next vacation spot."

"Sure. Just make sure you rent it for the day like I did."

"You had to pay for this?"

"For just the two of us, yes. Why'd you think we were the only ones here?"

Dean looks down at Sam's face, then turns away. "Well, honestly, 'cause I find this place kind of lame."

Sam looks crestfallen and removes his head from Dean's lap. "Fine. We can go."

Dean, realizing he's hurt Sam's feeling once again, grits his teeth and tries to smile. "Sammy... I'm... I'm sorry. If you did all this just so we could be alone for a while... I should be a little more happy about it... Want me to eat crow?"

Sam gives him a tiny smile. "No. Just... be with me."

"I am with you," Dean says, tossing an arm around Sam's shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. "But you really should have told me sooner we had this place to ourselves."

Sam rests his chin on top of Dean's head, "But then I never would have been able to look around."

Dean murmurs in disagreement, "Hey now, I wouldn't instantaneously rip your clothes off. I'd give you a minute. Maybe two."

Sam curls his legs up and rests them on the edge of the bench. Dean pushes them down and begins crawling into Sam's lap.

Sam shakes his head, "This was so much more peaceful when you thought someone else could walk in at any minute."

"Too late," Dean kisses Sam's chest as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. "You already told me it's all ours. Dean tosses Sam's shirt aside.

Sam stands up, pushing Dean to his feet. He starts to walk off, realizes Dean isn't following him, grabs his hand and pulls him along. "Here. It's more... private."

Dean looks at the trees surrounding them and the blanket spread out in the clearing. He grins at Sam and says, "You've been planning this."

Sam replies, "Yeah.," and blushes. He sits down and pats the blanket next to him. Dean hits his knees, leaning back on his ankles. Dean removes his shirt and wads it up into a makeshift pillow.

"Are you sure about this," Dean asks. "I mean, it's still not exactly private."

Sam pounces on Dean, forcing him onto his back. Undoing the button on Dean's pants, Same nods and says, "I'm sure."

"Absolutely no hesitation, huh?"

Sam sits back. "There seems to be on your part. What's up?"

Dean looks away and says modestly, "I feel like the birds are watching us man."

Sam begins laughing, tries to stop, and bursts into laughter again.

"Shut up. It's not funny."

"Yes... yes it is," Sam giggles.

Dean frowns and glares at Sam. Sam finally stifles his giggles. "So... what do you want to do?," Sam asks, tracing his fingers along Dean's chest.

Dean moans contentedly, then looks towards the trees and moans in frustration. "Can we go back to our room?"

"Sure. If you want to hear about this every day for the next... say six months at least."

Dean squares his shoulders, looks straight at Sam, then pauses, obviously wondering if getting naked in front of the birds is worth it. He mumbles, "All right," and removes his pants. He looks at Sam, says nothing, and wraps himself in the blanket.

Sam grins, but remains quiet as he slowly takes off his pants. Pushing Dean onto his stomach, Sam rearranges the blanket to cover them both.

Dean makes a low, purring noise in his throat and relaxes as Sam slowly sinks into him. Cuddling Dean against him, Sam murmurs, "Is this all right?"

Dean nods and pushes himself tighter into Sam, turning onto his side.

Sam, having this planned for days, comes quickly. Looking to satisfy Dean, his hands are removed as Dean slowly shakes his head, then rolls over to lay cheek to cheek with Sam. Sam tosses off the blanket, enjoying the sun against his skin as Dean rolls himself tighter into the blanket.

Dean, watching Sam's naked form stretch out, loosens the blanket enough to lie his head on Sam's chest.

"You know," Sam says, looking towards Dean, "that 8-Ball lied."

Dean yawns. "When? I was humming Dylan in the back of my mind. And neither of us were wearing underwear. Which reminds me, it's your turn to do laundry, you know. Oh, and, so far anyways, no birds have crapped on me."

Sam flexes, then relaxes his body. "Actually, it's your turn to do laundry. You traded to not have to listen to my musical selections. But the 8-Ball lying. It said I was your bitch. It lied." Sam gives a large, lazy grin, "You were just mine."


End file.
